


Name, Please

by mauvesaidwill (23seok)



Series: Klance Week 2k16 [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: But whatever, Gen, Klance Week 2016, M/M, and keith my poor bby is the greeter, don't take this srsly, haha ya hell is a hotel, i don't think it's the same as an actual hotel greeter, not super shippy but they do kind of end up having to spend eternity together, which is like marriage right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:10:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7705318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/23seok/pseuds/mauvesaidwill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Hell is a hotel, Keith is the greeter, and Lance just wants to summon things. Not including knives, by the way.</p><p>Written for KlanceWeek2k16 Day 3 - Hell/Heaven</p>
            </blockquote>





	Name, Please

**Author's Note:**

> for day 3 of klanceweek2k16 - hell/heaven
> 
> one day i will write to the schedule,, One Day. sadly, that day isn't today. or is it?? no it's not b/c i don't know what to do for free day. maybe smthng involving demigods??? i'm a sucker for pjo things so maybe that, but i don't know who i want lance to be the son of RIP. anywho enjoy this garbage
> 
> tumblr is mauvesaidwill.tumblr.com
> 
> OH and pls note this isn't meant to offend anyone, really. if you believe in a heaven or a hell, that's your decision, and this is a work of fiction, not meant to be portrayed as what hell actually is. i understand that can be a serious topic, and i apologize if i do offend anyone.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/23seok) | [tumblr](https://23seok.tumblr.com)

The first thing Lance notices is that it’s dark. And cold. He shivers as he walks down the seemingly never-ending hallway. As he walks, the feeling of paranoia rises in him, and he glances behind only to see more darkness. He shakes his head, shivers, and carries on his way.

Only to get the feeling that someone’s following him again.

He looks behind to, once again, be met with darkness, and he frowns because he’s pretty sure someone _is_ following him, but maybe it is just the darkness and his mind playing tricks on him.

He’s starting to wonder if he should’ve turned around when he’s greeted by a door. It’s a big, cherry, wood door that has no knob to turn. Lance hesitantly reaches a hand out as the feeling of someone creeping closer to him from behind starts to burn. The door slides open.

It looks like an old grand hotel. A dramatic chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and elegant couches are scattered about, along with the occasional houseplant. The floor appears to be marble, and Greek-style pillars grow from the floor to the roof. Some parts of the walls are just bookshelves. There’s even a grand piano in the corner, and—

“Welcome to Hell. Name, please.”

Lance jumps nearly twenty feet in the air before he realizes that the door has closed behind him, and the voice came from a man dressed in a suit sitting at the large desk in the center back of the room.

“Name, please,” the man repeats, annoyance leaking into the words.

Lance opens his mouth, about to say his name, but instead, he says: “You have a mullet.”

He’s met with silence before the other man lets out an irritated huff. “Yes, I do. Now tell me your name.”

“No way, I don’t trust people with mullets,” Lance crosses his arms.

Mullet Man rolls his eyes. “Of course you don’t. Just tell me your name.”

“No,” Lance protests.

“Name.”

“No.”

“Now.”

“No.”

The man glares at him before standing and walking over to Lance, who backs up when he leans close to his face. The man pulls out a pen from a pocket that Lance wasn’t sure was there before, then prods at Lance.

“Yo, hold the phone!” Lance takes a step back from the prodding. “Don’t poke me!”

Mullet jabs his pen at him again. “I wouldn’t have to if you just told me your name.”

Lance glares at him before relenting. “My name is Lance.”

“Full name, please,” the man says.

“Lance Sanchez,” Lance says, exasperated. He straightens when the man goes back to the desk. “What’s yours?”

The man looks up, annoyance evident on his features. “Keith.” He disappears behind the desk before coming back up with a large, leatherbound book. He lets out a breath before opening it to a random page. He flips through a couple more before stopping. He frowns, scratches at his brow with his stupid prodding pen, then looks back at Lance. “You said your name is Lance… Sanchez?”

Lance nods.

“What about middle name?” Keith asks.

“Andrés,” Lance replies.

Keith nods and goes back to reading whatever the books says. When his brow furrows and the corners of his lips go back down, Lance moves over to the desk. He finds that it’s filled with names and numbers. He blinks and points to one that says Amelia Carnella Prince B477. “What’s that?” he asks.

“The person and their room,” Keith answers, vexation evident on his features. “Everyone sent here has their name in this, but…,” he shakes his head, and Lance realizes there’s an odd sort of charm to the way the dark hair swishes this way and that with the movement, “you’re not in it.”

“Um, okay,” Lance says, and he watches as indigo eyes study the open pages. “So what’s the big deal?”

“Do you not remember the whole ‘Welcome to Hell’ greet?” Keith asks flatly.

Lance shrugs. “I thought it might’ve been the name of the hotel. A really crappy one, but a name nonetheless.”

“Yeah?” Keith raises a brow. “Well, it’s more than a name. It’s where you are.”

Lance lets out a low whistle. “Isn’t that something?” He frowns. “Wait. I’m in Hell? What’d I do?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Keith replies, “but you’re name isn’t anywhere in here.”

“Weird,” Lance says, to which Keith nods, eyes still locked on the page. “So do you get, like, lonely down here? Doesn’t look like this place gets much action.”

“It does,” Keith answers. “It used to get more, but it hasn’t lately. Things have slowed down. Which is good for the human race, I guess.”

“So you are lonely?” Lance leans closer.

Keith glances at him before shrugging. “Not really. It’s kind of nice not having much company. I don’t mind.”

“How’d you end up here?” Lance questions as he looks around. “Are you a demon or...?”

“I just kind of,” he makes a vague motion with his hand, “showed up.”

Lance hums before nodding. “Makes sense, makes sense. Did you die?”

Keith freezes before looking at him. “Excuse me?”

Lance blinks. “Is that rude to ask or something?”

Keith stares at him before shaking his head. “I don’t know if I died. I don’t think I had a life before this one. I’ve always just been the Greeter.”

“Well, that sounds boring,” Lance says, to which Keith shrugs.

“I’m okay with it.”

“I’m not,” Lance replies. “So why am I not in the book?”

Just as Keith begins to say, “I don’t know,” a paper floats down onto the desk. Hesitantly, Keith picks it up, Lance leaning over the desk in an attempt to read it. Keith glares at him and holds the paper away. His eyes scan over it, narrowing as he reads. “It says you’re not in the book, yeah, we know, but it also says,” he huffs and sets it down before turning to look at Lance with an irritated look. “Congratulations. You’re my assistant.”

Lance straightens. “Wait, really? What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Keith crumples up the paper and tosses it away from the desk, only for it to start burning as it flies threw the air, disintegrating into nothing. “I don’t need an assistant.”

Another paper appears on the desk. Lance grabs it first. He snorts when he reads it. “It says you need a friend. Wow. This guy sure is cold.”

“It’s the King of Hell, what did you expect?” Keith asks. Lance shrugs then reads the paper again but before he can finish, it begins to burn. He yelps and throws it behind him. He sees the corners of Keith’s lips turn up slightly.

Lance bites his lip before he walks around to the other side of the desk where a second chair appears. Keith groans, but Lance takes a seat. He looks around at the interior of the room before looking back at Keith. “Can you summon things?”

“Like what? If you say demons, I’m not talking to you,” Keith says.

“Man, are you just grumpy all the time ‘cause you’re in Hell? No wonder you need a friend,” Lance rolls his eyes before smiling and snapping his fingers. When no grapes on a gold platter appear, he frowns. “Okay, so _I_ can’t summon things. Keith, summon something.”

Keith stares at him before sighing and closing his eyes. After a couple of seconds, a knife appears and clunks down on the desk. Keith opens his eyes and grabs it, holding it out to Lance. “There.”

With wide eyes, Lance stares at the knife before scooting away from the other. “Yeah, that’s not quite what I had in mind. But could you teach me how to do that?”

Keith goes from pointing the knife at Lance to looking like he wants to stab himself with it.

“Can we die down here?” Lance asks.

Keith refrains from hitting his head on the desk. If only.

**Author's Note:**

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